Chapter 5
Maya told me not to go.
Emily told me not to go.
Lauren used language so violent that Maya finally took the phone away from her.
I understood all of them.
I also understood Daniel.
He had spent eleven years learning exactly where to press.
My mother was the deepest place.
He knew it.
That was why he used the letter.
“We call the police,” Maya said.
“What if he destroys it?”
“We document the message.”
“He may have the only copy.”
“He may also be trying to get you alone.”
“I know.”
“Then act like you know.”
I stared at the photograph on my phone.
My mother's handwriting.
I would have recognized it anywhere.
Strong letters.
Blue ink.
She always used blue.
“If Daniel has the original, I need it.”
Maya folded her arms.
“And I'm telling you that a letter is not worth your physical safety.”
“What if it explains everything?”
“It can explain everything tomorrow.”
“What if there is no tomorrow for the evidence?”
Emily spoke softly.
“Daniel hates losing control.”
We both looked at her.
She swallowed.
“I didn't see it before because he was always charming with me. But last night, when I wouldn't leave with him…”
Her voice faded.
“What happened?” I asked.
“He followed me into the parking garage.”
My skin prickled.
“He grabbed my wrist.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Not badly.”
“Emily.”
“I got in my car and locked the door.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“He said I had destroyed his life.”
Maya said, “Did you tell the police?”
“No.”
“You should.”
Emily nodded.
Then she looked at me.
“Don't go alone.”
So we didn't.
At six that evening, I drove back to my house.
A police vehicle waited half a block away.
Maya had arranged it after showing them Daniel's message and explaining the hidden insurance policy.
They couldn't arrest him for asking me to come home.
But they could be nearby.
Maya sat in another car with Lauren.
Emily stayed away.
That was the plan.
I entered through the front door.
Daniel sat at the dining table.
Two glasses of wine.
Candles.
Dinner.
For one insane moment, the scene looked like one of our anniversaries.
He stood.
“You came.”
“Where's the letter?”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Sarah.”
“Where is it?”
He smiled.
Not warmly.
“Still impatient.”
I looked at the table.
My favorite meal.
Lemon chicken.
Roasted potatoes.
The same dinner he had made after my mother died because I had stopped eating.
I hated him for remembering.
“Do you think this fixes something?”
“No.”
He poured wine.
“I think we need to talk without lawyers and coworkers and your sister poisoning everything.”
“Lauren didn't sleep with Emily.”
His face tightened.
“I made a mistake.”
“You forged my signature.”
“I made several mistakes.”
“You stole almost eight hundred thousand dollars.”
“Moved.”
“You gave my mother's necklace to your girlfriend.”
He closed his eyes.
“That was stupid.”
“That was cruel.”
“Yes.”
The word surprised me.
He sat.
For a moment, he looked exhausted.
Older.
Almost human.
Then he said, “I never planned for you to find out like that.”
I laughed.
“How did you plan for me to find out?”
“After things were settled.”
“What things?”
“The separation.”
“We weren't separated.”
“We were emotionally separated.”
“That's something cheaters say when they want to sound philosophical.”
His mouth hardened.
“Fine.”
“Where is my mother's letter?”
“In a safe place.”
“Give it to me.”
“I need something first.”
Of course.
“What?”
“You withdraw the fraud complaints.”
“No.”
“Then we're done.”
I turned toward the door.
“Wait.”
I stopped.
He pulled a folded sheet from his jacket.
Not the original.
A photocopy.
He placed it on the table.
“You can read one page.”
I walked back slowly.
The handwriting was my mother's.
Sarah,
If you are reading this, then someone has finally found what I was too afraid to tell you while I was alive.
I have spent thirty years protecting this family from the consequences of one decision your father and I made before you were born.
My heart began pounding.
I kept reading.
The next paragraph had been blacked out with marker.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“You covered it.”
“I copied it that way.”
“You're lying.”
He shrugged.
“Keep reading.”
The visible text continued.
The shares I left you are not simply an inheritance. They contain controlling rights connected to a side agreement that was never disclosed to Jacob.
I looked up.
“What side agreement?”
Daniel sipped his wine.
“Now you're interested.”
“I was interested before you started blackmailing me.”
“I'm not blackmailing you.”
“You told me to drop criminal complaints in exchange for my dead mother's letter.”
“Call it negotiation.”
I wanted to throw the glass at him.
Instead I took a picture of the page.
He reached for it.
“Don't.”
I moved away.
“Where is the original?”
“Secure.”
“What's in the blacked-out section?”
“Something that could destroy your mother's reputation.”
I stared at him.
“My mother is dead.”
“Reputations survive people.”
“What do you want?”
His expression changed.
Businesslike.
Cold.
“I want access restored to the investment accounts.”
“No.”
“I want you to sign a revised property agreement.”
“No.”
“And I want you to stop speaking to Emily.”
I laughed.
“That last one sounds personal.”
“She has confidential company information.”
“She has evidence.”
“She has stolen data.”
“You gave it to her.”
“She misunderstood.”
“You keep using that word.”
Daniel stood.
“Sarah, you don't understand what you're holding.”
“Then explain it.”
“Your mother's shares aren't worth four million.”
I waited.
“They're worth closer to twelve.”
My breath stopped.
“What?”
“The acquisition offer undervalues a voting provision attached to her original ownership agreement.”
“How do you know?”
“The documents in the safe-deposit box.”
I stared at him.
“You stole documents proving my inheritance is worth twelve million dollars?”
“I preserved them.”
“From me?”
“From Jacob.”
“Why would Jacob have access?”
Daniel smiled.
That was when I realized he enjoyed knowing something I didn't.
“Because your brother thinks half belongs to him.”
“Does it?”
“Legally? Probably not.”
“Morally?”
He laughed.
“You suddenly care about morality?”
“I haven't cheated on anyone.”
“Your mother did.”
The room went silent.
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
Daniel watched my face.
There it was.
The cruelty again.
He had waited for this.
“My mother did what?”
“You really didn't know.”
“Know what?”
He poured himself more wine.
“Your father wasn't Jacob's father.”
For a second, the words meant nothing.
Then they landed.
“You're lying.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother wrote it herself.”
“Show me.”
“Withdraw the complaints.”
“Show me.”
“Sign the agreement.”
“Show me!”
I slammed my palm against the table.
The wineglass jumped.
Daniel didn't.
He smiled.
“I've missed this side of you.”
I felt sick.
“You are disgusting.”
“And you're naive.”
“Why does Jacob's father matter?”
“Because the man your mother had an affair with was one of Halston Packaging's founders.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
“Thomas Halston.”
The name hit me.
Halston.
The company.
My mother's company.
“He left her additional voting rights through a private agreement.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It makes twelve million dollars' worth of sense.”
“Why would Mom hide it?”
“Because Thomas Halston had a family. Because your mother had a family. Because scandals mattered more thirty years ago.”
“And Jacob?”
“Jacob is Halston's son.”
I sank into a chair.
My brother.
My mother's secret.
The company shares.
Everything twisted together.
Daniel sat across from me.
“Now you see why I couldn't let you make emotional decisions.”
I slowly raised my eyes.
“You mean decisions about my own inheritance.”
“I mean decisions that affect our future.”
“There is no our future.”
His expression hardened.
“Don't be dramatic.”
I almost smiled.
He still didn't understand.
“You forged a deed.”
“I protected the house.”
“You stole money.”
“I moved marital assets before you could waste them on lawyers.”
“You took out life insurance on me.”
For the first time, Daniel's confidence cracked.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“Who told you?”
I felt ice move through me.
Not What insurance?
Who told you?
“You know about it.”
“Sarah.”
“You forged my signature on a two-million-dollar policy.”
“It was estate planning.”
“Why didn't I know?”
“You sign dozens of financial documents.”
“I didn't sign that one.”
His jaw tightened.
“And why are you afraid that I found it?”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
He stood quickly.
“That's enough.”
I backed away.
“Where is the original letter?”
“Leave.”
“You invited me.”
“And now I'm telling you to leave.”
I reached for my purse.
Daniel caught my wrist.
Hard.
Pain shot up my arm.
“Let go.”
“You need to stop.”
“Let go.”
“You've been running around telling people I'm some criminal.”
“You are hurting me.”
His grip tightened.
Then the front door flew open.
“Take your hand off her!”
Lauren.
Behind her were two police officers.
Daniel released me instantly.
His face went blank.
“What is this?”
One officer stepped forward.
“Daniel Miller?”
“Yes.”
“We need to speak with you.”
“About what?”
The officer looked at my wrist.
Then at Daniel.
“Several things.”
Daniel turned toward me.
“You set me up.”
“No.”
His eyes were furious.
“You recorded me?”
I didn't answer.
Because I had.
My phone had been recording from the moment I entered the house.
Daniel stared at my purse.
Then he lunged.
The officers moved faster.
One grabbed him.
Daniel twisted away.
“Get off me!”
Lauren screamed.
I backed into the wall.
For the first time in eleven years, I watched my husband completely lose control.
He shouted at the officers.
At Lauren.
At me.
“You have no idea what she's doing!”
They pulled his arms behind him.
“You're destroying everything, Sarah!”
I stared at him.
“No.”
The handcuffs clicked.
“You did.”
As they led him toward the door, he suddenly stopped fighting.
Then he looked directly at me.
And smiled.
It was the calmest he had looked all night.
“You still don't know where the original documents are.”
My stomach dropped.
The officer pushed him forward.
Daniel kept smiling.
“And neither does your brother.”
Then he was gone.
Lauren rushed to me.
“You okay?”
I nodded.
But I wasn't listening.
Because something Daniel had said bothered me.
Neither does your brother.
If Jacob didn't know where the documents were…
And Daniel had been arrested before he could move them…
Then someone else was holding them.
My phone rang.
Patricia.
I answered.
Her voice was calm.
Almost cheerful.
“Sarah, sweetheart.”
I felt sick hearing her call me that.
“What do you want?”
“I think you've made your point.”
“What point?”
“Daniel has been humiliated enough.”
“He forged my signature.”
“You have no idea what sacrifices that boy has made for you.”
I laughed.
“You helped him steal my house.”
Silence.
Then she said softly, “Be very careful with words like steal.”
“I was in Seattle when you notarized that signature.”
Another pause.
“You always were smarter than Daniel gave you credit for.”
My skin prickled.
“Where are my mother's documents?”
Patricia laughed.
Then the line went dead.
A second later, she sent me a photograph.
A wooden dining table.
On it sat my mother's original letter.
A stack of corporate documents.
And the small brass key from her jewelry box.
May you like
The message beneath the photograph contained only six words.
COME GET THEM BEFORE I BURN THEM.
